A/N: 5.03 tag/drablett. Not much else to say so I hope you enjoy it.
Miles Apart
Sam knew the second the vial was presented that he wasn't going to make it. Just like when he was hunting with Dean, seeing the blood, damn near smelling it, was tripping up his defenses. He was too scared and too hungry for it to properly fight and before he knew it, he was on the flat of his back. He struggled even though the small part of him that he's been keeping locked up, safe and sound, was cheering with impending release. The blood hit his tongue and his throat worked to drag it down. It was a battle between mind, heart, soul and body and right then, Sam was terrified that body was going to win.
While it was swishing around inside his mouth, begging to be gulped down, all Sam could think of was Dean. He thought of the way Dean stared at him with cold, unfamiliar eyes and told him to walk away. The way Sam's heart shattered into impossibly small pieces when Dean said they couldn't ever be what they used to be, and the way Sam would do anything to make it right. Dean, Dean, Dean, brother.
The liquid crimson was splattered across his face and dripping from his lips like sin, and he could feel the power desperately wanting to burst free. He tried to keep it at bay and he kept pushing it down, because he wasn't compromising himself…wasn't compromising his relationship with Dean, for a couple of ignorant hunters. It amazed Sam that even when they were miles and states apart, Dean could still save his life.
So he crushed his inner demons and spit the blood out, and directed it smack in the hunter's face.
Suddenly Sam was angry. This wasn't fair. He was running, repenting, trying to get his head on straight and get his infected body clean, and these assholes who don't know anything come and try to mess it up for some revenge. Revenge is a slippery slope, Sam knows better than anyone.
After it was done and Lindsey was set free, Sam grabbed a bottle of whiskey off the bar shelf and washed away the remaining tang in his mouth. The demon inside slipped into repose, temporarily admitting defeat. For the night, at least.
When Sam got back to his motel room it was almost three a.m. He and Dean have been on their separate paths for the better part of three weeks now. It's been hard but Sam's muddled though, concentrating on calming his addiction and starting over. The hunters' attack was a stark reminder that while he was out, he'll never be out. The encounter made him miss Dean more than ever.
Suddenly, his phone was in his hand. He had no idea where his big brother was or what he was doing, but Sam figured that Dean wouldn't answer anyways, so he pushed the speed dial.
'This is Dean, leave a message.'
"Hey, Dean…it's me. I, uh, just wanted to tell you that…" Sam takes a deep breath, wondering if this was a good idea after all, "You saved my life tonight. I know that doesn't make sense, but…you did."
There's a pause as Sam wonders what Dean's going to think of that, "I'm alright, I hope you are too. Bye, Dean."